Merry Go Round
by Veronnique
Summary: Keith becomes ill, and an emotionally exhausted Veronica must readdress her understanding of Logan Echolls. LoVe.
1. Chapter 1

**Merry Go Round  
**

Summary: Keith has a heart attack and Veronica must readdress her priorities and understanding of Logan Echolls. LoVe. WIP.

Disclaimer: Veronica Mars is owned by its creators and UPN. I have nothing to do with it, and write purely for personal gratification.

A/N: Logan's motivations will, at the end of this, seem opaque. Bear with it. Soon, LoVe goodness will flow free.

* * *

It could be any classroom in the school.

The white kids are sat at one side, and within that group, the richest ones are distinguishable by their expensive, well-co-ordinated outfits and shiny hair. On the other side, the Latino kids or the dirt poor white ones are clustered, their hair being not quite so shiny and their outfits not quite so well co-ordinated. In the middle of them, Veronica Mars.

Her eyes are gazing vacantly around the room. Over in the corner, Kelvin Moore flirts with Nicola Baumann. Logan Echolls is reading a surfing magazine. Madison Sinclair is texting on her nastily pink phone. Perhaps it's Lamb her fingers are hot for today.

A message comes in with the dowdy office secretary. The teacher reads it, raises his eyebrows wide, and walks over to Veronica's desk.

"Ms. Mars," he says quietly, putting it down on the plastic surface. It lies there innocuously, crumpled yellow and safe. "A note for you."  
_  
Veronica,  
You are needed in my office immediately on a personal matter.  
Principal Van Clemmons._

She reads it over in a second.

The use of her first name and the personal signature slows her blood to ice. In so few words, there are such infinite possibilities of disaster. Her eyes, already focussed on the way out, miss the way Logan watches her, his eyes casually tilted from the magazine as though he isn't really looking at her at all but at an unknown something in the middle distance.

Clemmons' fatherly ushering-in gesture and his perfectly composed, sympathetic face tell her all she needs to know.

"What's happened?"

"Veronica," he says softly.

"What's happened?" she repeats, louder. Her hands are shaking a little.

"We have just been informed that your father has had a heart attack," he says carefully.

Her hands fly to her mouth. Emotion floods through her so quickly that it can't be separated into distinct feelings. There is a sickening fear though, before everything, which is rushing so fast, so incredibly dizzyingly fast around her that words tumble and fall out of her mouth unbound . "Oh my God, he can't be - "

Clemmons hastily interrupts. "He's alive. He's _alive_, Veronica." The dizzy fear recedes, mastered by numb shock. "No, the hospital just phoned because they'll need his details, and of course, you'll want to be with him."

Veronica is not entirely sure what she hears after that, or how she gets out of the office and comes to be walking down the Neptune High hallway.

'He's okay', she tells herself. 'He's okay and he will be okay in the future. He will make many stupid jokes and you will laugh at them and he will solve the bus crash, and everything will be fine, because he is Daddy.'

Walking through the quiet sun-lit halls, she realises that she is shaking violently, and that if she tries to get into the Le Baron and actually drive, she'll probably crash.

At the doors, she realises she has left her jacket in the classroom. It was slung behind the chair and she just didn't look. The note had thrown her, engaged her curiosity elsewhere.

She will have to leave it there now, except that someone will probably steal it just because they can, and because she is Veronica Mars, no-one in that class cares a rat's ass if her jacket gets stolen right in front of them. No-one's going to stop it.

'_Oh God;,_ she thinks_. 'I'm going to break down, right here at these fucking school doors, because of a jacket.'_

She bites her lip down hard; tries to gain the breath that is pounding unevenly in her chest. Veronica tells herself that this feeling has nothing to do with her jacket; it's just a symptom of the shock of her father's heart attack, and on a normal day she'd be able to understand that piece of tiny psychology.

She's still leaning on the wall next to the door, almost unwilling to go outside.

"Veronica!"

She twists around uncomfortably. There is a sick feeling in her stomach that apparently dislikes movement of that kind and hot tears are welling up behind her eyes, barely suppressed. Logan is running up to her, holding the jacket in his hand.

"Forget something?" he says sardonically, slowing down as he approaches her. "Still, why worry when there are good souls like me around to pick up all your clothing refuse?"

"I -" she says blankly, reaching out for it. "I -"

"This is the part where you say it's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for you?" he suggests blithely. Seeing her total lack of response, he pauses momentarily. "You okay?"

"No," she says slowly, as if this is a strange question to have asked her. "My father's had a heart attack."

And with that, she masterfully doesn't burst into tears. Not at all, because she's Veronica Mars, and she doesn't cry on school property. Not in front of Logan Echolls, not in front of anyone, not even in front of herself.

"Fuck," Logan says eloquently and Veronica wonders what he's still doing there, and why he's looking at her like that. "Can I do anything - I mean -"

She heads him off. "You can drive me home. I'm not feeling too great."

With a dramatic flourish, he holds the door open for her. Veronica's grateful for it, because she thinks her arms feel weak. "Although I have to say, Veronica, as excuses go for the chance to ride in the Xterra, you're really pushing the boundaries of taste and decency."

"Yes, I absolutely engineered this scenario for that very reason," she snaps back, and he grins as if she's serious.

While the car grinds along, she manages to recover her composure. Logan's jeep feels like last summer, and she knows that he probably has a gun in the glove compartment, but despite that, it is strangely also a soothing, safe place.

"Thanks for this," she says. With a considered effort, her eyes rise to meet his. "I'm grateful."

He does not look away from her gaze, so it is really a good thing that the road is poker straight and virtually empty. "You do plenty for me."

"Only because you force me to," she says shortly.

"Yeah, well." His eyes are back on the road, and in that nanosecond of their gaze breaking, his whole body has tensed. "I guess we're just different."

Several minutes later, though, he asks if her dad's going to be okay.

"I don't know," Veronica answers. "I have no idea, Logan, at this point."

"I'm sorry," he says genuinely, although she is not sure if he is apologising for his question or expressing sympathy for her answer. Maybe both.

"It could be worse." She clutches the side of her seat as the Xterra swings around a particularly sharp bend. Logan's really speeding the hell out of the roads now. "They obviously found him before anything too serious - a complication, I mean."

"That's good," he says with a sincerity that surprises her a little. "Well." He jerks the car to a sudden stop outside her house. "Home, sweet home."

"Will you wait while I get his stuff?" she asks. Logan nods, unconcerned.

"I'm officially skipping fifth period today."

"Logan," Veronica says as she steps out of the jeep, "you always skip fifth period. The last time I saw you in Health Class - in fact, I've never seen you in Health Class."

He grins. "So how'd you know I'm supposed to be there at all? Ms. Hauser doesn't register."

"I know things."

"Veronica Mars. Eye on everything."

It is with annoying ease that he navigates her house.

Whilst she frantically packs her possibly dying father's clothes and necessaries into a hold-all, Logan apparently lounges demurely on her sofa, playing with a pen lid, tossing it up and down through his fingers. Even Backup doesn't seem to deter him from wandering about the house aimlessly.

"I sometimes think you prefer my dog to me," she says deadpan when she returns to the lounge to find Logan knelt down and practically barking at Backup in sympathy. The whole summer, she had been increasingly disgusted to find that her boyfriend had a natural and inexplicable affinity with her dog.

His expression is suddenly guarded, and Veronica can't piece together an explanation for the shift in his mood. "Sometimes, I do. Although the conversation lacks a certain something."

"Ah. Finally, the reason why we dated becomes clear. It was really all about the dog, wasn't it?"

"No." His voice has a hard, rough edge to it. "No, that wasn't it."

Rifled by his tone, she tenses up. "Can we just go?"

"Yeah," he says suddenly, and she wonders what it is that's in his voice that wasn't there before. Whatever it is, it's cold and unwelcome. "You know, I've had a change of heart. Here though -" He throws a flash of silver mental at her hand - "take my keys. I believe you know where I live, should you wish to return the car."

Veronica hasn't been expecting that, and it comes as a blow.

"Logan, what's up with you?"

In spite of herself, she cares.

"What's up with me," he replies dismissively and unpleasantly, "is having a social life this afternoon that does not involve ferrying my ex-girlfriends to hospitals."  
_  
Is it better to be alone and feel strong than to have someone with you and feel weak? _

In a brief second, Veronica finds her answer to that question. The last two years have given her that knowledge, and his keys feel light in her hands. Whatever Logan's deal is, it isn't in her jurisdiction to care.


	2. Chapter 2

She has driven the jeep once before, when Logan was wasted and couldn't, but somehow driving it alone and without numerous thwarted attempts from the passenger seat to get a hand up her skirt doesn't feel quite so secure. It's a big car, and she's used to a small one, and coupled with the fact she's incredibly scared about her father and furious with Logan in tandem, this serves to make the journey quite difficult.

Plus she's going to the hospital alone. Plus Logan is an asshole and she should have known better than to think otherwise. As the car skids through empty streets, she calls Wallace instead. He is almost insufferably sympathetic.

The doctor she sees is efficient and clearly over-stretched.

"It could have been considerably worse. Luckily for you dad, the woman who was with him knew what it was. You wouldn't believe the number of people who don't realise they've had a mild heart attack."

The word 'mild' sends shudders of relief through Veronica.

"So, he's okay?"

"Well, I wouldn't say we're quite on the home stretch yet. We've given a clot-bursting injection, and that's likely to remove the blockage, although the ECG is being constantly monitored for complications. It looks positive, though. He had very prompt attention."

Veronica walks in to see her father looking rather grey framed against the stark white sheets and the machine he's hooked up to.

"Hey," she says gently. "Hey Dad."

He slowly opens his eyes: apparently he was just resting. "Hi Veronica."

"How you doing?"

"I feel like I've had a heart attack."

She doesn't even quirk a smile at that.

"Who was with you when it happened?"

"Mrs. Patterson. You've met her?"

Veronica has indeed met their client Rosamond Patterson. Possibly the only woman who makes Celeste Kane appear to have a warm heart.

"God, I bet she was great."

Keith makes a weird sort of gesture with his mouth. "Actually, she was. If it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't necessarily have realised it was a heart attack. She called the ambulance straight away."

"Must have been one of her husbands who gave her the experience," Veronica says dryly.

He laughs slightly. "I think she was in medical school before she made marriage her full-time occupation."

Veronica both wants and does not want to know why her father should know anything about Rosamond Patterson's history outside that relevant to her case.

After this, Keith drifts off to sleep. One of the nurses tells her to expect him to be a little dozy for the rest of the day on account of the medication they've pumped him full of. They also give her endless reams of information about heart attacks, and what to expect for the future. That ten percent of victims will have a second attack within a year which could prove fatal.

The evening comes by, and it is impossible for her to stay at the hospital any longer.

Until she is actually looking at the Xterra, it has not occurred to her that she has to drive it to the Neptune Grand and deal with Logan. Wallace offers to go with her to the hotel, but she declines. He looks exhausted, and she doesn't really blame him. Most of the day has been spent hanging out in the waiting room for the results of scans for kidney damage and anaemia or looking at incomprehensible, frightening X-rays.

Before she puts the jeep into ignition, she does check the glove compartments for guns. It seems unlikely, but with Logan you never quite know.

They prove, mercifully, to be lacking in the gun department, but bountiful if she needed any minibar-size alcohol units, magazines, mints, mouldering water bottles, tissues or - her hand pulls out a photograph and it sends a horrible lurch of guilt through her stomach. It's her. A cheesy boardwalk shot of her doubled over with laugher, undeniably directed at Logan, who must have been wielding the camera. She doesn't even remember it being taken. It was from the last summer, self-evidently, but what surprises her is the unguarded, uncalculated happiness of her expression. Veronica cannot ever remember finding dating Logan that much of a blast.

Why he's kept it for almost a year doesn't bear thinking about. Hastily, she shoves it back in there and covers it with a packet of mints. If Logan wants to hoard photographs of his ex-girlfriends in his glove compartment, it's really not her business anymore.

Veronica is, when the moment approaches, somewhat hesitant to go up to the Presidential Suite having not been there since Duncan's departure, but ultimately she has his car keys and he wants them back. It occurs to her in the elevator that she could have just left them at reception. Somehow she's got past the idea that Logan - and Duncan - were ever paying guests of the hotel.

Her knock on the door is soft. Veronica is silently praying that he will have gone to bed, although she knows how unlikely this really is considering it's only half past ten. It is also possible he might have gone out, she guesses, but it's a Wednesday and Logan tends to stick to traditional nights for getting trashed with Dick.

Sure enough, he opens the door, sees it is her, and gives a huge and discernibly fake grin. Gesturing as if to say 'what can you do', Logan laughingly tells her:

"Duncan's not home."

"Oh for God's sake," she says sharply, genuinely stung. Duncan remains something of sore ache, and standing at his doorway being reminded that she will never see him again does not particularly represent a joy. Her hand thrusts the keys at him. "Here are your keys, Logan. Thanks for the car."

"Won't you come in though?" he says, affecting upset and surprise. "I'm sorry for mentioning Duncan. You see, I just miss him so much I can't talk bout nothing else."

"Stop," Veronica says. Logan looks disinclined to do so, crossing his arms smugly as if he is glad to have found a weak point in her defence system. Her last nerve snaps. It is not until she is midway through shouting that she realises how hurt she is about his leaving her at the house and how much that is showing through.

"Just stop, Logan. God, you win, okay? I don't want to talk about Duncan. You are proved right. Congratulations. Aren't you smart. Who knew that I didn't want to have to listen to your stupid offensive jokes and wonder what the hell went wrong with this and why you can be such a bastard, and least of all I want to be stood here having to tell you what should be obvious to anyone with half a brain. So, congratulations. Seriously, Logan, what a prince you are - and - "

And she is shouting.

And he is snarling, pushing her inside the room, slamming the door behind her.

And she pushes against him with her hands, yelling something about what a waste of time he is, and how she just does not want to have to deal with this sort of shit today, and all through this he just stands there listening to her, and then the anger's just dissipating like someone pulled the plug on it because what's the point of shouting at him anyway if all he's going to do is let her.

"Can't you just stop?" she says, finally, desperately, running her hands through her hair. Her whole body feels collapsed and drained, as if the day's events have swung at her at once like a hammer blow. "Please. Just for a few hours, don't."

He doesn't say anything, just looks at her quietly, even sympathetically. "Okay."

She puts her arms around him then and buries her face in his neck. She knows she's crying, and he probably knows that as well, but he has his arms fastened tightly around her, so maybe he's not as angry as he has right to be. He still smells the same as he did when they were dating, and Veronica wonders how it is that she didn't realise she'd missed it until now.

"God, Logan," she says into him, and he shudders at the feel of her breath on his skin. Her arms pull him in tighter to her. "I'm sorry."

"No, you know," he says, "it kind of beat those fantasies where hot women come over late at night and make endless love to me. What with the shouting and proclamations of my general uselessness to the world and all."

She pulls away from him, sees his face is deadly serious in that way that only Logan can be after he's just made an apparent joke, and tries to find something clever to say in response. All that comes out is an I'm sorry.

"I didn't mean - I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."

"Veronica," he says firmly. He takes her face in his hands, and almost involuntarily her eyelids flicker shut. She feels one of his hands lift up to her hair and tuck a strand behind her ear. His mouth meets her cheek in a dainty, light kiss that's not like Logan kisses. She's not sure he's ever kissed her on the cheek without it being a precursor to something else before. Her mouth pouts forward, expectant but instead:

"It's not important," he says, and she opens her eyes on him looking down at her with infinite, soft-woven tenderness that might break at any moment into shards of glass.

"It is important," she says. Her hand runs a line down his cheek. "How can you just let it go?"

"Pretty easily," he replies, detaching her hand from him. "I'm good with it where you're concerned. In fact, I consider 'letting things Veronica Mars does pass without comment into the ether' within the top ten of my marketable skills." He pauses. "You want something to eat?"

"No, I have to get home." She tries to smile at him. "Honestly, I'm exhausted. And Backup will need feeding."

"Stay," he says.


End file.
